Break the Silence
by Melody Syper Carston
Summary: Arhtur hates the rain; it brings back too many memories that he'd rather drink away... but he hates the silence that follows it even more.  USUK
1. Prologue

**Break the Silence  
><strong>**By: Melody Syper Carston**

Prologue

"_It ticks just like a Timex. It never lets up on you. Who said life was easy? The job is never through. It'll run us to we're ragged. It'll harden our hearts. And love could use a day of rest before we both start falling apart..." —Kieth Urban, Raining on Sunday_

Arthur hated the rain…

Rain brought a darkness that swallowed everything in its destructive path. It's inky black tendrils would mockingly curl themselves around buildings and people, bringing them in to embrace the blackness like a long lost friend. It blended colors until one couldn't be told from the other. It sucked up every light until one wouldn't be able to see one's own hand in front of his or her own face.

Rain brought memories that screamed out in the darkness. They were splatters of bloody red on the inky walls. Memories of the Revolutionary War. Memories of the London Blitz. Memories of the Great Fire. Terrible memories that plagued his mind and twisted horrible tales. Tales that would make anyone want to cringe away.

Rain brought frustration that led to anger that brought arguments that brought breakups that brought loneliness. Arthur had learned that not too long ago when Alfred and he had gotten into a fight that had ended with the former walking out. Arthur, of course, had tried to chase after him, begging him not to leave, that he hadn't meant a word that had been said, but, alas, the American was too fast and the Briton hadn't been able to keep up with him.

Rain brought fear that grabbed you and pulled you down, down, down into the deep ocean of cries of agony. The ocean waters flashed before his eyes and suddenly he was drowning. He couldn't breathe, water filling his lungs, burning cold. The sound of rushing floods filled his ears and he could no longer hear the screaming memories. He could no longer see the deep waters swallowing the darkness around him like a monster, leaving everything blurry and ugly.

Rain brought silence that brought a sharp ringing to Arthur's ears. The silence blocked out the sound of rushing water and the screams of memories, the pains of breakups and the regrets of insults, the flood of water and the darkness surrounding it. It coated the blood-soaked darkness with a hideously pure white, leaving everything looking too sterile and untouched like hospital floors.

Arthur all of these things but the silence was the worst of all. It was the only thing that visited him anymore. His magical friends had all but disappeared and with Alfred gone, he only had his own voice to keep himself company. It wasn't the same! He hated how deafening the silence was, filling his ears with a muffled sound, as if someone was talking through a pillow.

The silence controlled him, possessed his body and left him helplessly unable to control his own movements.

He _hated_ it.

**x~*~x**

Arthur entered his house, loosening his tie with one hand and setting his brief case that he had in his other down by the door. He moved towards the closet— where he hung up his jacket and stashed his umbrella— and then towards the bedroom. He made a small noise in the back of his throat as he undressed as quickly as he possibly could. After depositing his wallet, watch, and cellphone on the desk on one side of the room, he moved to the other side, grabbing the bottle of whiskey he kept by the bedside by the neck, and downing what was left in the bottle. With his usual rituals done, the Englishman stretched out his arms and flipped the bedside lamp off, curling into a tight ball and prepared to sleep the rest of the rain away.

On the desk across the room, a loud chirp was heard, announcing that Arthur had missed a call and now had a voice-mail.

The machine quickly recorded what the person of the other line was saying before shutting off.

"...Hey, Iggy...? I-It's Alfred. Look can we talk, preferably in person? I'm sorry, okay? Call me back when you can..."

But Arthur wasn't listening. He was far too asleep by that time to hear any of it.

**X~*~X**

**"I don't see why people add disclaimers in their stories. I mean obviously they don't own it or they would be multimillionaires that actually did something with their life instead of writing things for fanfiction. If they actually owned all of this shit then it would've happened and they wouldn't even bother to think about this dumbass website." – One of my friends on disclaimers.**

**~Melody Syper Carston**


	2. Whispered Apologies

**Break the Silence  
><strong>**By: Melody Syper Carston**

Kapitel Eins: Whispered Apologies

"_Since you've been gone, I learned how to move on. How to be myself; I don't need no body's help. I've been doing so good, I forgot that I could live like this. First step: Take a deep breath. You don't need a reason why. You can, you can take- take time. You can, you can walk, run, dive. Close call: Ya think ya might fall, but all ya gotta do is try. Even angels, Even angels learn how to fly!" —Fantasia, Even Angels _

They could never get a hold of each other. Alfred always calling when it was way too late at night for the Briton to even be sober if at all conscious, and Arthur calling way too early for the American to even be in a coherent state to answer. Leaving one voice mail after another. Sometimes leaving a text here or there stating that they regretted ever fighting, but never receiving any response until the other had forgotten what they were talking about completely.

Arthur had given up on trying to get in contact with Alfred after the seventeenth forward to voice mail. It was completely pointless, trying to talk to him anymore. He obviously didn't care enough to answer his phone, which of course was very unusual.

He only ever answered his phone anymore if it was his boss or some other important figure, not caring if another country called him. There weren't any conferences for a few months, and he was finally learning to enjoy this solitude once more. He _liked_ being alone. He was able to think without being interrupted. He could read and drink his tea in peace. He could function perfectly fine on his own.

But Arthur still hated the silence.

And with no one there except himself and his voice, he found it more and more difficult to keep the pure white that the Silence carried along with it away from his home.

_And it terrified him._

The silence possessed him, controlled his movements, and there were times when he would come to in a part of his house he hadn't been to in years!

Why was he suddenly finding himself in his old study on the opposite side of his house? He never used that room anymore! He had abandoned it after the fairies had destroyed half of the books and valuable items in the room. He didn't like to be reminded that his magical friends no longer visited him. It made him uncomfortably aware of the Silence again.

**X~*~X**

"_Now_ where am I?" He muttered to himself coming out of his daze to realize that he had once again been wandering around his home. He felt that he was getting better at getting lost in his own home than _Roderich_ was! He was constantly having to check his surroundings and find his way back to the inhabited part of the house!

Arthur frowned when he recognized the part of the house he was in. An old hallway that he had banned himself from entering. Ever since the Revolutionary War, he felt he could never enter this hallway. Not without everything he had forcefully forgotten rushing back to him all at once.

The rooms were all different in this hall. Some were pristine white and clean. Some were carved in. Some had old snatches of tape and ripped posters still hanging there. Each room had it's own story behind it.

The ones farthest to the back held the most memories. Those that used to hold his little brothers when they had been in his care. Others such as the ones at the front of the hall were ones that made him shiver at the cold vibes coming from them. Those rooms belonged to his older brothers. The very brothers that used to torture and tease him so much that he would take refuge at Francis's house until they had forgotten about him once more.

The hall was an eery quiet. Quieter than the rest of the house was, lately. The ringing was almost unbearably loud here. So much so that he _couldn't _hear himself think properly. This wasn't the same type of ringing. It was more of a high pitched whine that seemed to be coming from the back of the hallway.

The back of his skull was beginning give off dull wave of throbbing pain from the faint noise. It beat in time with his pulse, quick and fast.

Arthur curiously travelled down the hall, eyes landing on each of the older doors with a cautious eye. He counted them each, six on the left, six on the right, two left untouched in the middle of each wall.

The Englishman stopped in front of the last door on the right, studying the remnents of poster corners and small sharpie doodles and carvings that littered the once pristine white door. Slowly, not thinking about what he was doing in _any_ way, Arthur pressed his ear to the door as if he were going to hear something other than the hollow emptiness that sounded from all of the rooms.

"What in the queen's name am I doing? I've completely lost my head if I thought that I would've heard something... This is bloody ridiculous..." He scolded himself, not moving from his spot. "Nothing's there!" He was about to turn and leave when he thought he hear a noise.

So there _was_ something. Someone was in there and was speaking quietly.

Arthur's heartbeat quickened even more as he pressed his ear flush against the wooden surface of the door. He strained his ears, hoping to catch anything of what the person was saying.

_Anything at all to show that he wasn't alone._

But the wood was too thick and he could only make out the sound of muttering, never what was being said.

With a frown, Arthur twisted the doorhandle and pushed through the doorway. As soon as he stepped through, the whispering stopped as if being caught talking about someone behind their back.

"_Won't let him hurt you Matt—"_ A gasp followed the whispers and then it was silent again.

Arthur glanced about the empty room searching for the cause of the voices. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

But there was nothing. No one hiding in the closets or under the bed or behind the bookshelf or under the table. No voice anywhere. No child. No magical creature.

And then a whispered, _"I'm sorry, Dad... please don't hate me."_ before everything went black.

**X~*~X**

**A/N: So I guess I should say where this idea came from before I really get into this and start to confuse people.**

**Pairing: USUK **

**Request: "Go into a silent room and listen to the silence. Once you start to hear the ringing noises, concentrate on that and you'll start to hear whispers. But be careful because once you start to notice them, they'll start to notice you and there is no such thing as a voice without a body."**

**"I don't see why people add disclaimers in their stories. I mean obviously they don't own it or they would be multimillionaires that actually did something with their life instead of writing things for fanfiction. If they actually owned all of this shit then it would've happened and they wouldn't even bother to think about this dumbass website." – One of my friends on disclaimers.**

**~Melody Syper Carston**


	3. Pleading Insanity

**Break the Silence  
><strong>**By: Melody Syper Carston**

Kapitel Zwei: Pleading Insanity

"_And though I tried to, tell you that I need you, here I am without you… I feel so lost, but what can I do? Because I know this love seems real… And I don't know how to feel… We say goodbye in the pouring rain and I break down as you walk away… Stay… Stay… 'Cause all my life I've felt this way, but I could never find the words to say… Stay… Stay…" —Stay by: Hurts_

As the darkness sifted around him in swirls and waves, it seemed to also be carrying him away to somewhere other than that not so comfortable flatness he had been laying on. It carried him up and away, turning here or there, shifting his weight from one place to another but never dropping him. Only carrying, carrying, carrying. His body swayed with the movements, back and forth, back and forth as if he were in a boat rocking with the currents. His body felt light, featherlike. He nearly smiled at the feeling.

Arthur Kirkland suddenly felt something warm and soft under him, as if the darkness had become a tangible cloud underneath him and the dark side of the sun a blanket that cocooned him in the inky depths once more.

"_Should we open the window? Doesn't daddy usually open a window before he sleeps?"_ A voice near his left whispered naturally as if the voice could reach no louder level of volume.

"_Yeah! I'll do it!"_ A braver—but still just as quiet—voice answered. This seemed to be the leader of the group by the way the phrase was spoken. _"It looks like it's going to rain… Oh well… It's kinda far off. And I'm sure Iggy'll wake up by the time it gets here. He'll have it shut by then."_

There was a near silent '_pop-shhmp' _as the window was pushed open. Cool air immediately started to flow through the room.

"_R-right. Well… let's go, Alfie… we will get caught if England wakes up with us still here!"_ This voice was more hesitant and afraid, accent thick and English slightly butchered. It didn't seem to belong in the crowd.

"_Yeah… Iggy wouldn't be too happy if we woke him up. He's kinda scary when he's cranky…"_

There was a shuffle of multiple pairs of feet and then silence once more. It still rang clear in his half-coherent state, ringing, ringing, ringing. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, and his eyes fluttered open at the sudden crash of thunder over head.

The window! He flew to a sitting position and held his hand out to level himself from the immediate head rush he received as a consequence. Once he was balanced again, he hurried to the window to slam it shut. He glanced down at the desk that was now soaked. "Bollocks…" he muttered, picking at the soggy documents and notes he had spent so much time working on for the next World Conference.

He frowned, staring at the window that shouldn't have been open in the first place. "How did you get open?" He whispered, his fingers reaching up to brush against the now latched casement.

A scoff and a quick shake of the head was all the question received as an answer.

He then noticed his phone on the opposite side of the desk—miraculously untouched, as was his wallet and watch. The screen informed him that he had yet another voicemail from his American lov—ex. The nation rolled his eyes and picked up the phone, opening the voicemail and pressing the device to his ear.

In the message, three voices were obviously arguing, small snips of Korean curses and Japanese retorts drowning out the third—a voice trying to get the other two to quiet down.

Finally, a loud shout of, "Will you two _please_ shut up or at least go into another room to argue? I'm on the phone! _Thank _you!" And then silence only broken by a timid laugh from the Korean and an apologetic, "Gomenasai, Alfred-kun..." from the Japanese.

Alfred's voice picked up again slightly rushed and jumbled together. "Hey, is something up? You usually pick up even if it's just to say that you're not in the mood to talk… You didn't even pick up for Francis, not that I'm surprised or anything. You aren't _that_ pissed, are you, dude? We still need to talk about this, ya know... And the sooner the better. Well, I have to go before Yong Soo and Kiku tear each other's throats out! Call me back later. Seeya, Iggy!"

Arthur shook his head and deleted the message with a weary sigh. Stuffing the phone back into his pants pocket, the Briton made his way to the hallway into his study, preparing himself for a long rest of the day buried to his waist in paper work.

**X~*~X**

It was some time later, long after the sun had set and had dimmed the room exceptionally, when Arthur leaned back in his seat, popping stiff joints in the process. He had been working for hours merely trying to catch up on the work his country had piled on him. He was by no means ahead like some other nations boated about at times. Arthur never was. He was always behind, feeling as though he had twice as much work as the other nations did lately.

His head lolled back and his eyes gazed up at the arched ceiling above him. His hands came up to rub at his face, trying to rid of the oncoming headache. The attempt was futile, though.

Arthur stood stretching his hands over his head and twisting his body until he heard several more satisfying cracks. He turned, shuffled the papers back into a decent order, left the study and slipped down the halls of his home, having no idea where he was going_. I just need to clear my head a bit before I get back to work is all. And since it's still raining bloody hell out, might as well travel the halls. It's better than pacing the study. _

His fingers trailed the walls absent-mindedly, skipping over photos hanging here or there, memorizing every scratch, dent, nick and bump his fingers traced over. His emerald eyes swept from side to side counting doors and naming them each in his mind. There were three different directions to move in now. Continuing forward would lead him on to his bedroom… To the right and left were guest and storage rooms.

Just as Arthur was deciding to turn back, he caught movement in the corner of his eye. From the left. Where he stood, it was only what seemed to be a shadow of something rocking back and forth, back and forth… back and forth. The Briton turned, searching for the movement again but found nothing but an empty hallway of even emptier bedrooms.

He _knew_ this hallway.

This is where he had found himself standing two days ago without any collection of how he had gotten there. He remembered the little voices that had been whispering in the back bedroom, Alfred's old bedroom when the American had been his colony.

Suddenly, he remembered seeing dull brown eyes staring up at him, begging for the Briton not to hate them or the iris' owner. Hong Kong— Kaoru's eyes. _'I'm sorry, Daddy, please don't hate me…' _He remembered the sinister flash that had followed that desperate look as the world around him had collapsed.

The air around him seemed to stick in his lungs, it thickened and blocked out the noise of a nearby grandfather clock ticking rhythmically. It muffled the sound of his breathing like cotton. It slowly drowned out the tap of the rain on the roof, sheltering him. It sucked all noise out of the area. As the air was too thick to penetrate. Once again Arthur could feel the blinding white of the silence creeping up on him again.

A shadow loomed over him. It brushed over his shoulder and curled around his wrist, locking around the joint tightly. Before Arthur could move to slap the strange, tangible shadow away from him, it had vanished and appeared half way down the hall. It taunted him, teetering back and forth, back and forth, swishing back up to Arthur and brushing his face in almost a faux-caring manner. It danced passed him once more, sliding up the wall and down a door, disappearing under the gap as if it hadn't just attacked Arthur and was merely following its master. A giggle rang through the halls as the shadow left, clear and childish.

The laugh started strong and then faded as if the person laughing were traveling, rather quickly, down the hall. The voice was shrill and bubbly as if bounced off the walls and formed words. _"Angleterre! Comment allezvous?" _a small giggle split the two sentences in half. The voice stopped in front of the Briton and a small child dressed in a white nightgown appeared, blue violet eyes twinkling innocently. _"Où est Papa?"_ The child disappeared before Arthur could question where he came from.

A sharp chirp echoed in the halls, making Arthur yelp and jump a foot in the air. He grasped desperately at his chest, trying to keep his heart from leaping out. The blonde let out a shaky breath he didn't know he was holding when he realized it was merely his phone announcing that Alfred was once again trying to call him. He quickly fished the device from his pocket and pressed _'talk'_ holding the device to his ear.

"This is Arthur Kirkland, how may I help you?" he answered as calmly as he possibly could. He was surprised to hear his voice come out much smoother than he had expected.

Alfred breathed sighed loudly on the other side, creating a field of static between them. "Dude! What took you so long to answer? I thought you had gone and keeled over already! Dammit, Iggy! Ya had the Hero all worried! And Hero's never worry!"

Arthur scowled, snapping a quick, "My name is not _Iggy_! It's England. Or it's Arthur. It's not Iggy _nor_ is it Artie. And I'm a _nation_. Great Britain to be exact. You'd _know_ if I'd died." He stuffed one hand in his pocket made to move but found it felt like lead weights had attached to his ankles. He frowned slightly, staring at his feet as he struggled to move down the hall to a quieter place, for the giggling was still ringing around the area he was standing in. He slipped into the closest guest bedroom, shutting the door as quickly as his sluggish movements permitted him.

Once greetings had been said, the two quieted, Arthur still struggling to keep the Silence in his house away, and Alfred waiting for the other to speak. The pause was full of tension and too much thought. It was uncomfortable for the two, but neither knew what, exactly, could be said to break it.

Alfred finally let out a breath and spoke uncharacteristically soft. "We need to talk… I mean, we can't keep running away from this, Arthur, and I'd rather not hold back until the World Meeting next month 'cos that'd just be too awkward."

Arthur nodded before realizing the other couldn't see him. He quickly answered with a small, "I agree."

"So… where ya wanna meet up? I can't discuss this over the phone. It doesn't feel right."

"It's _want_ _to, _you incompetent git. Don't _butcher_ _my_ language." The Briton moved to sit on the edge of the bed in the guest room; his head was much clearer now, but he could still hear the giggling voice slightly. They were losing volume, thankfully, fading quietly but still just as hysterical sounding as they had been before he had gotten the call. "Why don't you come here? _You're_ so dead-set on leaving your home; that should be no problem."

A pause, this one shorter than the other. "Yeah. I can work with that." And then the soft, rhythmic taps of fingers ghosting over laptop keys. The _'tmp, tmp tmp…' _sound drowned out the rest of the hysterical laughter and Arthur breathed an audible sigh of relief. "What's up? You seem nervous about somethin'. What's botherin' ya? Let the _Hero_ handle it!" This was followed by a small chuckle as if the American were laughing at some inside joke of his.

The Englishman froze before spitting out violently, "N-nothing…! You must be hearing things… I assure you, not a thing is bothering me." _Lies._

Alfred sounded unconvinced. "If you say so, dude. But ya know you can tell me anything, right?"

Arthur scoffed at the cliché line.

The American snorted. "Okay, so I have a ticket booked for tomorrow. Sound good?"

"S'fine."

"Alright. Well, my phone's dying, so I'll talk to ya later! Bye, _Iggy_!"

"Yeah… _Don't call me that!"_

'_Click'_

**X~*~X**

"_Why…? Why did you leave us? What did we do to deserve this? Daddy, what did we do?"_

Arthur shot up in bed that night only to find he was in some unfamiliar room. His emerald eyes adjusted to the very dim lighting; the nation realized that he knew his surroundings quite well. He was once again in Alfred's room. How he got there the Briton was still unsure, but something about the place sent shivers up and down his spine.

A shadow crawled across the floor with a tiny whine, hovering in front of his face for a long while before it finally took the shape of a person.

It molded itself into a boy; soft, chin length dark brown hair, spiked randomly and hanging neatly on either side of his face, framing it. His brown eyes were full of unspoken questions, but his mouth was set in an unemotionally straight line. The boy was Kaoru. The one that stole his consciousness the last time he was in this room. The one that had always called him '_daddy'. _The only one, at that. And although his mouth wasn't moving in the slightest, and he didn't seem to be speaking, something around the child whispered. The hushed voices held short conversations, quiet and quick but to the point.

Another two were suddenly next to him. These two were blonde. One with golden blonde hair and the other was more of a wheat blonde. The older of the two sat slightly behind his brother, his blue violet eyes swimming with fear and hurt. The braver of the two watched the Briton with curious sapphire eyes. They both wore white night gowns that went to their knees. Alfred and Matthieu. The two had carried Arthur to his room while he had been unconscious. '_Iggy'_ and '_Angleterre' _he was called by these two boys. The twins, too, seemed to be whispering without speaking.

That's when Arthur came to a conclusion about the unsettling hallucinations he had been seeing for the past week.

They were made out of corporeal whispers.

The three boys surrounding him, staring at him with wide emotion filled eyes, had always been his favorites. The way they watched him unblinking, though, unnerved him to no end.

Their eyes closed suddenly and their mouths opened slightly, enough to speak. But they did not speak themselves.

Instead, the whispers the three were made of grew louder and stronger until they were screaming in Arthur's ears.

"_Why did you leave me daddy?"_

"_Just acknowledge me! I'm here too! It's me Angleterre!"_

"_I just want my independence, Iggy! I just want my freedom!"_

"_Daddy! Why are you ignoring me? You resent me don't you? I'm not good enough. I'll never be 'Little Alfie'."_

"_What about Papa? Where is he? Why did he leave me? Why don't I have a say in this?"_

"_Pay attention to me, Daddy!"_

"_I never liked you, Iggy. I've always wanted to break away from you. I could never stand you. Living with you was merely a pity call."_

"_Arthur! What about me? I know I'm not as great as my brother… But… you shouldn't leave me behind. I really don't like being forgotten."_

"_Don't leave me alone!"_

The screaming was too much for him! He trembled with fear and tears pricked his eyes. "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!" he whispered bringing his hands up to close over his ears, clawing at them violently. He shook his head over and over again, the bodies pressing close to him, pulling at his wrists, trying to get him to listen to them.

He curled in on himself, nails clawing at his hair and ears. He screamed at the voices until his throat was raw. He let his fear-filled tears slide down his face until they no longer came. He pressed his back as close to the wall as he possibly could as the three boys—_Whisper Children _he called them—grappled with his arms, tugging them with all of their might. He ket his eyes shut, too afraid to look at their emotionless faces as they screamed with as much emotion as they could find.

Arthur wasn't sure how long he stayed in that position. He wasn't sure how long he continued to hear the voices, older and younger and of all of his former colonies and all of his older brothers. He wasn't sure how long he spent fighting back the compelling need to deny the things they said. He wasn't sure how long he took the insults. He couldn't tell.

Time seemed to blur together, but moved much too slowly.

He just remembered the new voice. The voice full of worry and panic. The one not of the past.

He remembered suddenly feeling a strong, comforting vice grip around his shoulders. He also remembered the feeling of the bed dipping beneath a body's weight. A real, completely corporeal weight.

"Arthur? What's the matter?" The voice had first only seemed concerned. But it soon escalated into panic. And pure unadulterated fear. "C'mon, ya gotta answer me so I know what to do! Are you hurt? What happened, Arthur?" There was a movement on the bed and then the weight was gone. "Maybe Mattie'll know what to do..."

Arthur panicked. His eyes shot open and one arm unwrapped itself from around his legs. "_No!_" He wanted to cry out, but his voice was no more than a whisper after screaming for so long.

Alfred heard him though, and he turned back with wide blue eyes, filled with concern.

"Don't leave me alone with them…"

**X~*~X**

**A/N: Planned to have this out sooner. Failed epically in backing the document up properly. Computer crashed. Lost the document and had to retype it all. Boo.**

**Is my French correct? I'm not the best at it… and it was my friend who helped me with the translation, but I'm still not sure if it's right…**

"**I don't see why people add disclaimers to their stories. I mean obviously they don't own it, or they would be multimillionaires that actually did something with their lives instead of writing things for fanfiction. If they actually owned all of this shit, then it would have actually happened, and they wouldn't even bother to think about this dumbass website." -One of my friends on disclaimers**

**~Melody Syper Carston**


	4. Heroic Moments

**Break the Silence  
><strong>**By: Melody Syper Carston**

Kapitel Drei: Heroic Moments

"_We used to have this figured out. We used to breathe without a doubt. When nights were clear, you were the first star that I'd see. We used to have this under control. We never thought. We used to know. At least there's you, and at least there's me! Can we get this back? Can we get this back to how it used to be?" —Used To by: Daughtry_

The trip to England was long and tiring. He hated every moment of it, honestly. With jet-lag and nothing to do, it left the personified nation absolutely exhausted. But he was there now. In England. He just had to get to Arthur's house without passing out. That was, of course, a challenge in itself.

Alfred grabbed his bags from the luggage carrousel and left the airport, hailing down a cab without a second though. The American slid into the back and quickly gave off directions that he had long since memorized. He was quiet the entirety of the ride, trying desperately to think of how to explain why he had gotten into a random argument with Arthur. Alfred, honestly, had no idea how he was suppose to explain that he may have had a terrible day and may have been a little buzzed and may have accidentally let his anger out by yelling and promptly breaking up with Arthur without making the situation any worse. Alfred just wanted to kiss and make up, like in one of those sappy romantic comedies him and Matthieu watched from time to time. But he doubted that would happen, especially since this was _Arthur. _Former pirate and rebel. The hot tempered Briton he had been raised by and had fallen in love with.

It wasn't _ever_ going to be that simple.

As the cab pulled to a stop, Alfred leaned forward and paid the driver, paying no mind to how much he had handed over. He stepped out of the car and grabbed his bags from the trunk without so much as a word. Carrying the bag up the path to the front of the house, Alfred blinked himself awake, letting out a tired moan as he set his duffel bag on the ground in front of the elegant double doors. He rapped his knuckles once against the glass before popping his head in. "Iggy?"

No response.

Alfred grabbed his bags and carried them inside, setting them just inside the door. He then set out in search of Arthur. First checking the rooms he'd most likely find the Englishman on most occasions.

No luck.

He then went through the halls calling his name.

A futile attempt.

Why was Arthur's house so _huge_? Why did it feel like the house grew every time he visited? Why did it seem like he could never find what he needed anymore? He was able to find everything when he was a child… but that was _years_ ago! Alfred found this searching frustrating and impossible. Where was he? This wasn't supposed to be so damned _difficult_! Arthur should have been waiting to yell at him as soon as Alfred had entered the house. But he wasn't _any_where to be found!

The house was much too quiet as well. There was usually the sound of soft music or the sound of computer keys being hit or the sound of Arthur muttering to some sort of "magical creature". But this… this was _dead_ silence. It felt almost suffocating, and Alfred wanted to scream to destroy it.

Something slammed into the wall the next moment, causing Alfred to yelp in surprise and the wall to shudder from the force. The blonde head pivoted towards the slam, sapphire eyes locking onto the door closest to said noise.

A surge of hope washed through him as he opened the door, "Arthur?" His eyes scanned the room, searching for the other blonde desperately.

_There_! On the bed in the corner!

"Iggy!" The relief written on his face and coloring his voice soon turned to that of concern. "Iggy?" He wandered over to the bed, kneeling on the mattress and crawling over to where the Briton was curled up. After scrutinizing the older man for a short pause, Alfred realized the English nation was shaking in fear.

"God, Artie… You're shaking worse than Toris does after an encounter with a very drunk and very pissed Ivan… what the hell happened?"

No response.

Alfred sighed—for he was getting nowhere—and cupped the Briton's face in his hands gently. "Iggy…" his voice was taking on an edge of warning; Alfred had to clear his throat to keep the soothing tone in place.

He never had been the best at comforting people… The American had always been an "Ah, just get up and walk it off! That's nothin'!" Type of guy. He hadn't gotten a lot of practice with these types of things, for Arthur had always been the one to comfort him, and his brother would just sulk around on his own for a while before bouncing back. He didn't know what to _say_!

Alfred used his thumbs to wipe at the tears rolling down Arthur's face, taking his time before speaking again. "Arthur? What's the matter?" He could feel panic set in when he didn't see any change in the Brit. _What's wrong? What am I supposed to do? _"C'mon, ya gotta answer me so I know what to do! Are ya hurt? What's happened, Arthur?" He shook the nation's shoulders lightly, trying to get some sort of reaction out of him.

Still no change.

"Arthur, please…" his voice was once again taking on that desperate tone.

Alfred moved away from the unresponsive Briton, muttering about how Matthieu would possibly know what to do, and began digging his phone out of his pocket. He was reaching for the door handle when he heard it.

"_No!"_

Had the room not been completely silent, Alfred wouldn't have heard the frantic whisper. He turned to see Arthur reaching out to stop him, tears drying on his reddened cheeks.

"Don't leave me alone with them…"

The American nation turned and stepped closer to the blonde, a frown clearly etched on his usually smiling face. His sapphire eyes narrowed in confusion, eyebrows furrowed. "Who are 'They,' Iggy?" Knees popping in slight protest, the super-power nation crouched down in front of the Briton.

Arthur shook his head frantically.

"Okay… What did 'They' do? Did they hurt you?"

Arthur gave another headshake after a small pause, thinking it over. His shoulders still trembled from shock and fear.

"Did 'They' scare you?"

A slight nod.

"How?"

A shake. No answer.

Alfred sighed and reached up to clasp Arthur's ankle in what was supposed to be a reassuring gesture, but the gasping and shirking away from the younger nations touch was definitely not a good sign. He, instead, held his hands out, palms facing the Briton as if showing that he wasn't going to harm the frightened man in any way. "Alright…" He didn't know where to go from there since this was all so new to him, so he went with his instinct. "Alright. I'm gonna take you outta here. Somethin' bout this room freaks the ever livin' hell outta me." He stood and scooped the quivering England up into his arms, not liking the way the blonde immediately started trying to break free of his strong hold.

"_Nonononononononononono_!" Arthur whispered. His breathing was becoming erratic and his movements jerky. "Stop, stop, stop!"

Alfred tried his best to ignore the flailing Brit's actions, continuing down the hall to Arthur's room. He knew if he could ignore that and get the older away from that room he'd be in the clear. The American shifted so that he could kick his way into the room and moved across the floor as carefully as possible.

He sat Arthur down on the edge of the bed, slowly stripping him down to his boxers and then doing the same for himself. The American pulled his ex close to him and lay back, shushing the still whimpering Brit.

Alfred ran a hand through Arthur's hair soothingly. "Shhh… I won't hurt you. I won't let them get to you… I'll protect you; I promise." He whispered such thing in Arthur's ear, sometimes moving to rub slow circles across the small of his back.

Arthur clung tightly to one of Alfred's arms, so much so that his nails dug into the skin and left little bleeding crescent moon shapes in the soft skin, but Alfred paid no mind to those. He was too busy with trying to calm Arthur down.

"Alfred…?" The soft whisper made it seem like Arthur had _just_ noticed him.

The younger, blue-eyed nation's confidence soared in knowing that he had calmed Arthur down enough to at least get the blonde to acknowledge him. "Hm?" His ministrations didn't stop: a thumb across the cheek, fingers through the blonde locks, a palm over the lean shoulders, fingertips down and up his arms, a hand gently gliding over his waist backwards, to knuckles kneading the soft skin of Arthur's back.

Arthur scooted closer until he was flush against his ex. "Don't fall asleep before me. I don't want them here again." The last be was muffled by Alfred's chest as Arthur once again readjusted himself. "Talk… it keeps the silence away."

Alfred smiled softly and locked his grip around the smaller blonde's waist. "Of course, Artie. I won't fall asleep on ya."

And he didn't. He stayed awake no matter how much his jetlag begged him to sleep. He sang softly to the Briton, and he told stories about life back in America. He told the Brit how much he had missed the older one, and he apologized multiple times for fighting. He hummed softly, and he laughed quietly as he watched the blonde. He would do anything to break the Silence.

When he finally felt Arthur's body relax and could hear the telltale signs of those slow, sleepy breaths; only then did he bend his head low enough to press a chaste kiss to the top of the blonde hair and let his own exhausted jetlagged body succumb to a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

**X~*~X**

**A/N:**** They say, "You write what you know." Tells a lot about my life doesn't it? OTL what life? It revolves around computers and catching up on sleep. ****Hmm… ****I apologize if either seem a bit out of character, but, to me, this is how I see Alfred acting. Arthur's just out of character because he's hallucinating and panics over everything at the moment…haha…**

**Questions, Comments, Concerns? I reply to all logged-in reviews! Those who are not logged-in or don't have an account, I could always answer questions next chapter if I see fit.**

"**I don't see why people add disclaimers to their stories. I mean obviously they don't own it, or they would be multimillionaires that actually did something with their lives instead of writing things for fanfiction. If they actually owned all of this shit, then it would have actually happened, and they wouldn't even bother to think about this dumbass website." -One of my friends on disclaimers**

**~Melody Syper Carston**


	5. Explained Actions

****IF YOU ARE STILL CONFUSED AFTER READING THIS CHAPTER SEE AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE FOR A CLEAR EXPLANATION****

**Break the Silence  
><strong>**By: Melody Syper Carston**

Kapitel Vier: Explained Actions

"_It starts with pain, followed by hate: fueled by the endless questions the world can't explain. A stain covers your heart and tears you apart just like a sleeping cancer. Now I don't believe men are born to be killers, but I don't believe the world can be saved. How did you get here and when did it start? An innocent child with a thorn in his heart. What kind of world do we live in where love is divided by hate? Losing control of our feelings; we've almost been dreaming this life away in a world so cold." —12 Stone, World so Cold_

By the next day, Alfred had completely forgotten what the two were supposed to be discussing, and Arthur felt ill if he even so much as think about the eventful week that was now past them. He didn't really want to have to deal with talking about any of it and thought that it would just be better to forgive and forget without a true explanation of the actions that had been taken.

The two sat across from each other the next morning, a coffee in Alfred's hands and tea in Arthur's. Their mouths refused to open and speak. Their eyes locked on anything but the other person in front of him. Breakfast had been a tense thing, full of awkward shuffles of feet under the table and irritating _clinks_ of silverware scraping against dishes. Once they had finished, Arthur had stood and cleaned the table before sitting back in his seat. Neither had moved since then.

Finally Alfred's mouth decided to cooperate. "So last night… When you said, 'Don't leave me alone with them,' who, exactly, are 'They'? You never answered my question. You just shook your head and I didn't want to frighten you any more than you were, so I just let it drop…" He finished lamely. The American was trying to be careful with the way he worded his thoughts, not sure how the other would react at that moment.

Arthur's emerald eyes widened, slightly. He shook his head quickly, wanting to get off of the subject quickly before panic and hysteria set in. "No, it's nothing. It's not something you would understand."

Alfred raised a single eyebrow in a way that said _'I dare you,'_ muttering a quiet, "Try me." He leaned back in his seat and locked eyes with the older Brit, indicating that he wasn't going to move until he got the entirety of the explanation.

Sighing rather dramatically, Arthur ran a hand through his hair. He scoffed once and folded his arms over his chest with a short eye-roll. "Fine. I'll talk."

"Good. Start at the beginning."

So Arthur, swallowing dryly and trying to calm his fraying nerves, gulped down the rest of his tea before beginning from the _very_ beginning. He spoke briefly about each of his colonies and how they had all been taken away from him one by one. He spoke of the time of Silence that had reigned over his house during those periods that he had no colony to look after. He, then, skipped through time and described how once getting together with Alfred, the Silence had disappeared. "It was like it never existed. It felt so strange to have some sort of distraction again." He had commented. He mentioned how grateful he had been of the American for the act. He spoke of how much the breakup had hurt him and the fact that he hadn't been able to get a hold of the American had been even more hurtful.

"They were god awful! At first it was just this veil of blankness that couldn't be broken. It then thickened into something of a wall that couldn't be perforated; I literally couldn't hear my own breathing half these days, let alone my own thoughts. And then the ringing in my ear just kept getting louder and louder until it was more of a wail than a ring.

"Then the voices: They were quiet whispers at first, only caught me when I was tired as bloody hell and let my guard down for the night. They were almost comforting at first, for I thought that they might have been my magical friends coming to finally visit me again… And each day, they grew stronger until they could take over any moment of quiet; that's when I realized that these voices were enemies and not at all friendly. They would taunt and tease and prod and poke at my mind until they had me playing in the palm of their filthy hands. They would lead me where they wanted me to go, as if they were possessing me. There were times when I would wake up and I didn't know where I was or how I had gotten there, but I always vaguely remember the voices telling me terrible secrets.

"The voices soon turned into shadows that would giggle and hide in the corners until ready to strike, but these weren't normal shadows." Arthur's hand flailed awkwardly as if trying to reach for the words to describe what he had gone through right out of the air. "They were almost corporeal. Scared the bloody hell out of me when one of the shadows came off of the wall and walked over to me like a normal human being, calling my name and dancing around me in a taunting manner before climbing back down the wall and under a door to hide once more. Such a strange sight…

"But it just kept getting worse! A child… dressed in a white gown and barefoot suddenly appeared from nowhere! He looked a lot like you, but he only spoke French… and his eyes were more of a violet shade than blue. What was his name…?"

"My brother? Mattie?" Alfred seemed caught off guard by the description.

Arthur snapped his fingers together and pointed at Alfred for a beat. "That's the one. Matthew!" He nodded before continuing on. "Anyway, the little one didn't seem to notice where he was at first. He continued to chase something up and down the halls as if it were a normal occurrence, all giggles and smiles for a while before he saw that I was watching him. Then he ran up to me and started speaking, but his voice was so quiet and his French hadn't been perfected since he was still young… I wasn't able to understand him. Though, it still seemed to give me chills. And then he was gone. Just like that." Arthur frowned, deep in thought.

"That's when you called and we discussed when you would be coming over and whatnot."

Alfred waited for him to continue to speak. When he received only a steady gaze, the American finally spoke. "There's obviously more. Come on, Iggy. I may not be a super computer genius, but I am a Hero. And Hero's tend to know when people aren't telling the entire story." He watched as the English nation started to fidget uncomfortably, twisting his fingers in his hands, biting his lip, letting his eyes wander around the room, rocking back and forth while tilting his head in the opposite direction. Anything to keep himself from thinking about the matter at hand. "Arthur, you know I'm not just going to give up. Have I ever given up on any of my ideas at the meetings? Have I ever given up in fights? Have I ever given up on you?" His voice softened here. "No, I haven't. And I'm not about to start."

Arthur breathed slowly for a moment, trying to regain his thoughts. "Not long after our conversation on the phone, I had deemed it time for bed. I was awoken after midnight, though, by what seemed to be more whispers. But when I woke up, I wasn't in my room. I found that I was in your childhood room. I knew I wasn't alone because there was that _infuriating_ Silence again. I couldn't find anything at first, the room was almost too dark to see… but I could feel something creeping up on me. And then there was suddenly a shadow crawling across the floor. It stopped right in front of me as if it were waiting for something specific. And then it transformed, just like the one that turned into...er… your brother. This one turned into Kaoru. He was quiet under my care, though Yao always said otherwise…" His eyes seemed to glaze over in nostalgia, his voice trailing off.

"Arthur!" Alfred snapped his fingers in front of the Brit's face rapidly. "Finish the story and quit reminiscing."

Arthur shook his head to clear his thoughts. "S-sorry. The first shadow turned into Kaoru. He didn't do anything at first, merely watching, observing as he did when I took care of him. And then, two more showed up—"

Alfred interrupted, leaning forward slightly in his seat. He was obviously interested in where this story was going. "Who did those turn out to be?"

A glare. "Would you let me finish?" Another pause. "These two turned into Matthew and you." A nod. "They were no longer just whispers and no longer just shadows and no longer just hallucinations either. They were made out of the whispers, like the whispers could actually take the shape of something and they chose their speaker." Arthur narrowed his eyes in confusion as he continued to explain. "The three practically were practically on top of me they were so close. And their eyes closed, and their mouths opened as if they were going to speak, but they didn't. Instead the whispers grew louder until they were practically screaming all at once in a slur of emotions and fears and withheld anger. I couldn't move. It was like they had glued me to the spot! I have no idea how long I was there… I just remember trying to block out their voices to keep the guilt from eating away at my sanity.

"And then you showed up, the bloody hero you are…" Arthur could feel his face heating up as the words fell from his mouth. "And like every other time, the Silence was gone and the Whispers and Shadows were as well." He laid his palms flat against the table, pushing up to a standing position and picking his empty tea cup up. Carrying it to the sink, Arthur added over his shoulder, "That's my explanation, and it's absolutely, one hundred percent true."

Alfred was quiet for a long time, seemingly processing what all had been said in the last half hour. He then spoke, eyes glazed over and directed at the place where Arthur's tea cup had been moments before. "So you're afraid of being alone?" He finally asked.

Arthur shook his head. "I'm fine with being alone. I've lived through loneliness multiple times. That's not the problem. It's the _silence_ that comes with it that I'm afraid of." His voice was soft, as if he didn't want to admit it.

Alfred nodded as if finally understanding, eyes widening. "Sedatephobia." He muttered more to himself than to the Brit.

Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his nasty, greasy hair. "I need a shower…" he mumbled. The Brit turned to the blonde American, opening his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by said blonde.

"How about I clean the kitchen while you shower? You don't have to talk about this anymore than you want to." He added as an afterthought. Alfred stood, making his way to the sink, coffee cup in hand.

Arthur nodded slowly, moving away from the counter and closer to the hall that lead him towards his bedroom. "Sounds fair. I shouldn't be too long. Try not to burn the house down while I'm gone." He was being completely serious on the last note. As he left, he heard Alfred mutter something that sounded close to, "How the hell am I suppose to burn the house down with a little water?" Arthur called over his shoulder without missing a beat. "Oh, trust me. Knowing you, you would find away." And with that, he was gone.

Alfred watched the Brit leave before focusing back on the task at hand. He felt a mix of emotions swell inside of him as he worked. Confusion on what was going on with Arthur and how he was supposed to react to what had been explained to him was one of the main feelings. It was accompanied by guilt, frustration, longing and was that a small hint of hope? Alfred wasn't sure what it was, honestly. And he wasn't sure what to do with it all.

By the time the entire kitchen was cleaned and he realized Arthur had still yet to come out of the shower, Alfred had figured out his plan. He would leave Arthur a simple note stating that since they had discussed what needed to be discussed and Alfred still didn't feel right about what was left of their relationship, that the American nation would be leaving once more for his home land. And he would be on his way.

The note had been easy enough, describing briefly the points needed to be made, throwing in his new cell phone number and his current work schedule in as a second thought. As he grabbed his bags though, he knew _something_ was off.

"What are you doing?" A voice, very quiet and very scared asked from behind Alfred, startling the American and in turn making him whip his head around so quickly that he gave himself a crick. While rubbing at his sore neck, Alfred took in Arthur's appearance. Clad in only green boxers with a fluffy white towel hanging from his shoulders, hair still dripping wet, a puddle of water at his bare feet.

Alfred swallowed, keeping a calm and steady voice as if trying not to spook a timid wild animal. "Well, I figured that, ya know, since we talked… and we're obviously not together, that I had overstayed my welcome and was headed home. I decided that there was no point in staying in England if I'm still not on the right terms with the nation himself so—"

Arthur's shoulders began to tremble with the force of his frantic head shakes. "No! You can't leave me here with them! Please don't leave." His voice though soft held a slightly desperate whine to it as though Arthur were having a panic attack over the thought of being alone with Silence once more.

'_And he very well might be having a panic attack.' _Alfred thought to himself, dropping the bag that he had left by the door in the first place once more to rush over to where Arthur was standing. "Hey, Artie calm down." He whispered, wrapping his arms around the English nation reassuringly.

"I don't want you to leave. You break the silence. It doesn't come back when you're around." Arthur buried his face in the American's shoulder, breathing erratically from the panic closing around his throat.

"Shh… calm down Artie. I promise nothing with hurt you. It's just a lack of noise. There's nothing that could possibly harm you in any way. Honest." Alfred moved a hand to massage at the skin between Arthur's shoulder blades, whispering comfortingly sweet nothings into his ear over and over until the Brit had calmed down enough to speak coherently again.

"I'm sorry." He whispered finally, moving so that his chin rested on Alfred's shoulder, his eyes trained on the wall behind the American.

"It's nothing, really. I mean, you used to do this for me all the time when I was—"

"Not that, idiot! Just-Just listen. I'm sorry about losing my temper that night when you came home a bit drunk. And I'm sorry I pushed you over the edge enough to make you want to break up with me. And I'm sorry I didn't answer your calls throughout the past week. And I'm sorry for everything I've ever done that lead up to this." Arthur muttered, letting his hands trail absent-mindedly over the sleeves of Alfred's bomber jacket.

Alfred tightened his hold on the Brit's waist, taking his turn to speak. "And I'm sorry for being a complete douche and taking my stress out on you. And for leaving you when you needed someone the most. And for being the idiot I was to take all of this to realize that I truly do love you. And want to protect you from any monster that may ever try to get to you." He whispered back.

Arthur's face turned slightly pink as he said the next statement. "I miss you, you git."

Alfred laughed, kissing the Brit on the temple. "Missed you too."

**X~*~X**

**A/N: **IF YOU ARE STILL CONFUSED AFTER READING THIS CHAPTER SEE THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE FOR A VERY DETAILED AND VERY CLEAR EXPLANATION** **

**To those of you still confused about Little America, Little Canada, and Little Hong Kong: yes, *nods slowly* they are **_**hallucinations**_**. Made out of degrading whispers albeit but hallucinations nonetheless. That's the point of a psychotic breakdown. So, honestly, I wasn't going to explain. I was just going to let this chapter speak for itself in all of this but here's the general idea of what's going on:**

**Diagnosis: Brief Reactive Psychosis.**

**Explanation: Because Arthur has been left alone with only Silence for so long, his mind has begun to unconsciously think about his worst-case-scenarios that he has come up with in his head about what each of the colonies could have hated him for and why each of them wanted their freedom from him. With so much time to itself, Arthur's mind has started to run rampant and play out these scenarios as many times as it possibly can. The repeated blows to his mental status has cause a lapse of Brief Reactive Psychosis: in other words, because of these constant thoughts, he has stressed himself into an illness that causes very sudden, very rapid psychotic symptoms that usually only last about a month. After which the person recovers completely. **

**Theories suggest that this illness can develop from poor coping ****skills ****as a defense against or escape from a particularly frightening or stressful situation. These factors may create a vulnerability to ****develop brief psychotic disorder. In most cases, the disorder is then triggered by a major stress or traumatic event. **

**Symptoms include:**

**Disorientation or confusion, changing in eating patterns or sleeping patterns or energy level or weight, unusual dress or behavior, problems with memory, speech that doesn't make sense, disorganized thinking, the inability to make decisions, and so on.**

**Long Author's note is long. I apologize.**

**X~*~X**

So... I apologize, also, if you suddenly get about... thirty notifications about this chapter... Fanfiction is not cooperating with me at the moment... and will not post this chapter no matter how many times I try to re-upload and reboot and re-name and rearrange it all... So I'm trying with a different computer to see if the problem is my laptop or just my account in general.

Gah this absolutely sucks...

~Melody Syper Carston


	6. Broken Silence

**Total words for entire fic: 11,150**

**Break the Silence  
><strong>**By: Melody Syper Carston**

Kapitel fünf: Broken Silence

"_If you believe when I said I'd be better off without you, then you never really knew me at all. And if you believe when I said that I wouldn't be thinking about you, you thought you knew the truth, but you're wrong. You're all that I need! Just tell me that you still believe!"—Believe by Skillet_

Arthur was not happy. In fact, he was downright furious, but he didn't say a word. Instead, he continued to try and escape the hold the blonde in front of him had on Arthur's wrist, but, alas, his attempts were futile. The super power nation wasn't relinquishing the death lock he had on Arthur's wrist anytime soon. This, of course, did _not_ deter the Brit. He was United bloody Kingdom, by Jove, and said greatest (ex-)Empire was _not_ giving up so easily!

"What's up with you? Ya haven't mentioned anything in the past week and _ten minutes_ brings it back. You were doin' so well, Artie… Thought you were over this by now…" Alfred glanced over his shoulder at the Brit he was practically _carrying_ down the hallway. His feet guided him through the, once again, memorized house, towards their destination. "Ya haven't had a panic attack in the last five days, either. An' ya didn't seem too bothered by finishing this… this… whatever _this_ is—when I mentioned it this morning."

Alfred stopped walking as he reached two hallways that stretched to the left and to the right of the two men.

As the American turned to fully stare at his partner, Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Quite honestly, I thought I was over _this_, as well. I wasn't bothered at first when you announced it… but, later, when you went to take a shower, I guess, my thoughts got a hold of me and everything came rushing back," he muttered. He leaned against the wall behind him, finally pulling his wrist free of Alfred's considerably looser grip. His eyes suddenly snapped up, narrowing in accusation, "And don't call me _Artie_, you git!"

Alfred copied the Brit's moves, sliding over to press his back against the space at Arthur's left, closer to the two hallways. "But what is it, specifically, that's botherin' you, dude? I don't wanna know _why_ you regressed. I wanna know _what _it was that _caused_ this regression. What did you think about that makes you so nervous?" he asked slowly. His sapphire eyes skimmed the hall stretching across from him.

Arthur slid down into a sitting position, knees folded tightly up to his chest, arms circling his legs protectively. He didn't speak for a while, watching as Alfred copied him once more. "You'll laugh and think I'm weak and possibly leave," he murmured, finally.

If there was any light mood reflected in Alfred's eyes minutes before, they weren't there now. His voice became completely serious and he kept his eyes trained on Arthur's fiery green ones. "Arthur, listen to me," he started, "I would _never_ laugh about something like this. You've obviously been hurt by _this_, and I'm doing my very best to protect you and fix you. I _want_ to help you get better; I would never do something so low as to laugh at you or behind your back or make fun of you or _any_thing like that in such a condition. And I _wouldn't _leave. God, no. You should _know_ that, Artie." His voice softened at the last sentence, an almost comforting tone to it.

Frustration bubbled up in Arthur's chest. He buried his face into his legs and he shouted the next part. "Then why did you try to leave me _that_ day? Why did we get into that argument that started all of this in the first place? Why did you abandon me without a second thought? W-why?" his voice cracked dangerously, but he continued to speak, "Why did we say such god-awful things to each o-other?"

Alfred slowly let his legs stretch out in front of him, shoulders slackening, head lolling to the right. He watched Arthur's shoulder's shaking for a minute or two in silence, trying to gather his thoughts. "Because I was being a douche and didn't think of the effect any of this would have on you," he whispered, arm reaching out towards the Brit. He lazily cupped the older blonde's closest hand in his, rubbing small circles across the skin. "And because I was a douche, you got pissed and went off on me… and I regret all of it because thinking back on it… I can't believe I told you that I was better off without you. I was so wrong…shit was I wrong…" he stopped, eyes widening slightly. "Is that what's been bothering you? You're afraid I'm going to leave you _here_ again?" When he received a nod in response, Alfred sighed and continued, "I would never leave you _here_ again. That would be the lowest thing I could _ever_ do. And I'm not even going to think about 'What if I did…' 'cause you're all I need, Arthur. All I need and everything I want."

Arthur didn't move for a while. Slowly, though, he uncurled from his position, eyeing the American warily. After noting the absolute sincerity in both his eyes and in his speech, the Brit nodded. He spoke quietly, barely above a whisper, but It was enough for the American to hear him, "I believe you."

Alfred smiled softly, leaning over to kiss the Brit's forehead. "I love you," he murmured softly into the blonde fringe. He pushed himself into a standing position and held out a hand to help Arthur rise as well. "So we're good?"

Arthur smiled slightly as well, pink dusting his cheeks from the confession Alfred had just made. He hummed in agreement, and this time he didn't fight the hand that went to grab for his. This time the hold was gentle, comforting.

They reached Alfred's old bedroom and stood outside of the door, hands clasped in one another's, eyes glancing from the door to their counterpart's, feet not moving an inch in any direction.

"Ready?"

A nod from Arthur.

"Alright. Close your eyes and on three we step in and open them, sound good?"

Another small nod.

"One…"

"Two…"

"Three!"

With a rush, the two bodies jammed themselves through the door at the same time, eyes popping open as soon as their foot had touched the ground. Both sets of eyes circled the room, slowly, inspecting every inch, every corner, ever space capable of holding some form of whisper.

Finally, a small gasp from Arthur, "They're gone."

The two words held so much triumph, so much exhaustion, so much happiness, so much relief, so much excitement for the partners. _They're gone. _They echoed in the room, slightly, a healthy echo rather than a whispered one.

Alfred grinned proudly. "I told you there was nothing to worry abou—mmph!" His statement was cut off by Arthur's lips crashing against his. A long, deep, passionate kiss that radiated the positive emotions spreading through the room. His eyes slipped shut, and his mouth tugged upwards slightly.

Arthur pulled back, finally, both sucking in huge gulps of air. "Thank you," he whispered, "for breaking the silence."

**X~*~X**

**A/N: My motto is: "When desperate, get creative." And I didn't have anything to write on when I started writing this chapter. So I used gum wrapper! The first four hundred words were fit onto six Orbit gum wrappers in gel pen which always seems to smudge together so it was very difficult to read…**

**This, my dear readers, marks the end of the fic! I hope you enjoyed it, and if requested by enough people, I can write a sequel. (I already have a plan written out for it. I just have to find that plan…) Thank you for all of the beautiful reviews and favourites and alerts on this fic! Very much appreciated!**

**Also: I will be going back and proofreading these chapters next week (I have a school project to do this week), so keep that in mind!**

**To all of you Spamano readers out there, I have a 50 prompt challenge I am about to start up soon! It'll be called Fifty Reasons. 50 prompts, 50 Spamano oneshots, 50 reasons why I_. The basic idea is that Lovino and Antonio are going through a lot of tension in their relationship, and Antonio decides to give Lovino 50 days of space so they can both think about the relationship and if they want to pick it back up. Antonio starts leaving early in the morning and doesn't return until late the next night (to where Lovino may see five minutes of him a day). Each morning before he leaves he writes out a note, and each note holds one reason as to why Antonio loves, trusts, and cares about Lovino. These notes are Lovino's to keep and may be the saving grace of their torn relationship.**

"**I don't see why people add disclaimers to their stories. I mean obviously they don't own it, or they would be multimillionaires that actually did something with their lives instead of writing things for fanfiction. If they actually owned all of this shit, then it would have actually happened, and they wouldn't even bother to think about this dumbass website." -One of my friends on disclaimers**

**~Melody Syper Carston**


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